


The Worst Day of His Life

by peachdoxie



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-21
Updated: 2016-02-21
Packaged: 2018-05-22 08:45:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6072724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachdoxie/pseuds/peachdoxie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A textualization of Stoick's perspective in How to Train Your Dragon, from The Kill Ring through Where's Hiccup</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Worst Day of His Life

The worst day of Stoick’s life started off as one of his best. Today was the day of Hiccup’s final exam.

The Vikings crowded around the training ring, which had been decorated with banners celebrating Hiccup’s triumph. The boy now stood in the entrance to the ring with Astrid. Stoick didn’t know why Hiccup had wanted her there or why she had agreed, but he didn’t question it. Hiccup was going to fight a dragon on his own today and that was the important part.

“Well, I can show my face in public again!” Stoick said to the gathered Vikings. They laughed. “If someone had told me that in a few short weeks, Hiccup would go from being, well…Hiccup, to placing first in dragon training, I would’ve tied him to a mast and shipped him off for fear he’d gone mad!” The Vikings laughed again and shouted their assent. “And you know it!”

Stoick waited for the crowd to settle down before continuing. “But here we are, and no one’s more surprised…” He paused for a moment and his eyes fell on Hiccup down in the ring. “…or more proud than I am.

“Today, my boy becomes a Viking. Today, he becomes one of us!” The crowd cheered and applauded, and Stoick thought about what he had said. He had always hoped that this day would come, but for many years had never thought it would. Hiccup had been such a small and fragile boy, and he would get into so much trouble with the dragons that Stoick had to constantly rescue him. It seemed impossible that Hiccup would one day be able to hold his own against a dragon. But whatever happened in the few weeks Stoick had been searching for the dragons’ nest had changed Hiccup, and for the better.

The Chief walked to throne and sat down. Below, Gobber was making the final preparations for the fight and Hiccup stood waiting with Astrid. The two teens spoke briefly, and it was time for the battle to begin. Hiccup started out into the ring, Gobber closing the gate behind him. The boy placed his helmet on his head as he walked towards the center. Stoick felt a stab of pride and smiled. He had been so excited to give it to Hiccup two days earlier. The helmet was made by Gobber out of Valka’s breastplate after she was taken, and Stoick wanted to be certain it was the right time to pass it on to her son. And today made it clear that now was that time.

Gobber came to stand next to Stoick and Gothi at the head of the ring, and Hiccup arrived at the weapons stand while the Vikings cried out their support. The boy hauled a shield up to his arm first and Stoick nodded his approval. Good choice. He then picked up the smallest knife on the stand. It was a strange decision, Stoick thought, but then again, Hiccup had always been a strange boy. Still, he commented to Gobber, “I would’ve gone for the hammer.” A hammer was always a strong weapon.

Hiccup took a deep breath and said, “I’m ready.” He didn’t look up at Stoick, instead focusing on the locked doors in front of him. The bolt was lifted and with a bang the doors opened.

Out shot the Monstrous Nightmare, covered in fire. The dragon skittered across the floor of the ring to the opposite side, flinging gobs of fire everywhere. It shot a burst of flame out at the crowd and made the Vikings jump back or risk their lives. The Nightmare climbed up the chain ceiling of the ring and paused directly above Hiccup. Flames gone, the dragon turned and dropped to the ground in front of the boy, watching him.

The boy held his shield in front of him and slowly backed away as the dragon approached. Stoick waited eagerly to see what Hiccup would do next. He held such a tiny blade he held that Stoick didn’t think it would be very effective against a Monstrous Nightmare, but his son had surprised him before and Stoick figured he would do so again. What Hiccup did next, though, was more surprising than anything Stoick had imagined.

As the dragon stalked nearer, Hiccup spread his arms and dropped his knife and shield. He held his hands out in what looked to Stoick like a placating manner. The dragon stopped and stared at the boy.

“What is he doing?” Stoick said to no one in particular. Not that anyone but Hiccup had an answer. It was very Hiccup to do something as ridiculous as disarm himself in front of one of the most dangerous dragons on Berk. The boy would get himself nearly killed again. Stoick sat up in his chair, prepared to jump in and rescue his son at a moment’s notice.

Below, Hiccup took his helmet off and murmured something to the dragon. The boy looked up and though he was far away, Stoick could tell his son was looking directly at him. His eyes held no answers for Stoick. After a second, Hiccup’s gaze fell back to the dragon and in a loud, clear voice, he said, “I’m not one of them.” He threw his helmet to the side and it clattered loudly to the ground, the only sound heard around the ring.

Stoick barely noticed that the Nightmare had visibly calmed when Hiccup removed his helmet. His anger swelled inside him. Of all the trouble over the years, this was the most stupid and idiotic thing that boy of his had ever done, putting himself at risk like that. Stoick had to put an end to this before someone – Hiccup – got hurt. The crowd gasped as they realized the danger of the situation.

“Stop the fight,” Stoick commanded, rising from the throne.

But Hiccup, as usual, had other ideas. “No,” he said, and the authority and force in his voice stunned his father. “I need you all to see this.” He reached his left hand out towards the dragon’s snout.

“They’re not what we think they are,” Hiccup said. He glanced up at Stoick. “We don’t have to kill them.”

At that statement, Stoick lost it. It was eerily similar to what Valka had said hours before she was taken. _We shouldn’t be killing them!_ Stoick rightly feared that sentiment would cost his wife her life. How dare the boy! Hiccup, the joke of the tribe, declare that the Vikings don’t have to kill the dragons? Spare the scourge that had plagued Berk for centuries, the very creatures that had killed Hiccup’s mother?

Stoick reared out of his seat. The years of loss he had felt while fighting dragons and losing loved ones flowed over the walls he had constructed in order to maintain his composure as chief. “I said stop the fight!” he shouted, and slammed his hammer down on the bars of the cage hard enough to bend the metal.

It was the wrong thing to say. The sound broke the dragon out of whatever sort of trance Hiccup had held it in. It snapped at Hiccup’s hand, and the boy scrambled backwards with a yelp. The dragon began to chase him around the ring, blasting fire as it did.

“Out of my way!” Stoick shoved the Vikings aside and ran towards the entrance on the opposite side of the ring. By the time he arrived, Astrid had pushed her way into the arena and thrown a hammer at the dragon to distract it. The beast began to chase her instead of Hiccup. Stoick pulled open the gates and called out to the teens. “This way!”

Astrid ran into Stoick’s arms and Hiccup tried to follow. The Nightmare fired at the gate and it ignited, causing Hiccup to scramble back to avoid being burned. Stoick turned to the side instinctively, sheltering Astrid from the blast.

Hiccup ran from the burning gate. The dragon turned and leapt at the boy, pinning him to the ground under its claws. Before Stoick could react, an eerily familiar screech echoed from outside the ring, and suddenly the entire arena was filled with smoke. Stoick hesitated, knowing that fighting a dragon in a cloud of smoke never ended well.

The sounds of a battle between dragons came from within the haze. The Nightmare stumbled out from the cloud with, to Stoick’s surprise, a second dragon on its back. The two dragons fought violently as the smoke cleared. From across the ring, Gobber cried out, “Night Fury!”

The dragons rolled on the ground, one pinning the other before the roles were reversed. The small, black dragon – Stoick realized it was the Night Fury – managed to shove the Nightmare off its back and moved towards Hiccup. In a rare moment fueled by terror, Stoick froze with fear for his son, knowing that there was nothing he could do to save Hiccup from a Night Fury. But instead, the Night Fury seemed to be protecting Hiccup, fending off the larger dragon until ultimately the Nightmare turned and slunk away.

Stoick watched his son run to the Night Fury and try to push it away, but the dragon refused to leave. The Vikings finally shook off their surprise and started to leap into the ring. Stoick too came out of his stunned stupor as well and grabbed an ax off the wall. He charged at the dragon, determined to protect his son no matter how much the boy had messed up.

The dragon had been looking around at the coming Vikings, but stood its ground next to Hiccup until it saw Stoick approach. The Chief recognized instantly that this Night Fury was as dangerous as it had always seemed during raids. Its eyes showed an intelligence that identified Stoick as the primary threat, and it raced to meet his charge.

Stoick was vaguely aware of Hiccup shouting, “Dad, no! He won’t hurt you!” The dragon ran through the crowd of Vikings, knocking them aside in its race to get to Stoick. Hiccup continued shouting, “Don’t don’t don’t, you’ll only make it worse!” Stoick paid no heed to the boy’s cries.

The Night Fury leapt at Stoick and the Viking met its attack. The two rolled and came out with the dragon poised on top of Stoick. His ax was knocked out of his hand and his helmet knocked off his head. Hiccup shouted, “Toothless stop!” but the dragon reared up, preparing to fire at Stoick. The gas built up in its throat, and Hiccup screamed, “No! No!”

The dragon stopped and turned to look at Hiccup, making a tiny noise as it did so. In that pause, someone threw an ax at the dragon’s head and within seconds it was wrestled off of Stoick. The other Vikings pinned it to the ground and Stoick stumbled to his feet. He heard Hiccup say, “Please, just don’t hurt him. Please don’t hurt him.” but Stoick ignored the boy. Only then did he notice the dragon’s harness and what looked to him like an artificial tail. It was obviously Hiccup’s work. That explained where Hiccup had disappeared to “most afternoons” like Gobber had said. Hiccup had been consorting with this dragon.

Stoick’s anger at his son threatened to boil over and he took a moment to assess the situation and calm himself. Another Viking held an axe out to Stoick, but he didn’t take it. No one was in any immediate danger, since both dragons had been conquered. He took stock of what he had just experienced. The Night Fury was obviously intelligent and protective of Hiccup. Its desire to protect a human was new, something Stoick had never seen in a dragon before. No matter how much Stoick wanted to slaughter it where it lay, it would be more useful to keep and study the Night Fury.

He pushed the ax aside and glared at the dragon. “Put it with the others.”

The next few moments were a blur of activity. Stoick left Gobber in charge to deal with the dragon and the chaos, instead grabbing Hiccup by the back of his shirt and carrying him away from the ring towards the Mead Hall. The boy was unusually quiet, realizing for once that he needed to keep his mouth shut. They arrived at the Hall, and Stoick opened the door, throwing Hiccup inside. The door slammed behind him and Stoick paced into the dimly lit space.

“I should have known,” he said. Hiccup had always been so much like Valka, but never to this extent. She had tried again and again to talk Stoick into trying to find a different solution to the war with the dragons. He had never followed her ideas. Dragons were dangerous killers and could not be reasoned with. Why couldn’t she have seen that? The only way Stoick saw to protect his tribe was to fight until they found the nest and destroyed it. And now Hiccup had befriended one of the beasts. “I should have seen the signs.”

“Dad,” Hiccup tried to say.

“We had a deal!” After all the years of pestering, Stoick finally let the boy learn to fight dragons if he agreed to stop acting differently, in a way that would get him or others killed. A simple deal, and Hiccup had broken it like that.

“I know we did,” Hiccup said, “but that was before…it’s all so messed up.”

It most definitely was. “So everything in the ring, a trick?” Stoick turned to the boy and gestured angrily. “A lie?” Hiccup had always been disobedient, but he had never _lied_ to Stoick. That more than anything made Stoick seethe with rage. A Viking shouldn’t lie to his chief! A son shouldn’t lie to his father!

“I screwed up. I should have told you before now,” Hiccup said. Stoick turned away. For once the boy was admitting he messed up, but that wouldn’t fix this now. “Take this out on me,” he begged. “Be mad at me, but please…just don’t hurt Toothless!”

He’d _named_ it? Stoick was furious. “The dragon? That’s what you’re worried about?” he shouted, towering over Hiccup. “Not the people you almost killed?” _So much like Valka…_

“He was just protecting me!” Hiccup said. “He’s not dangerous!”

“They’ve killed HUNDREDS OF US!” Including the boy’s mother. Didn’t he remember that? Didn’t Hiccup care that he had made friends with the same creatures that had left him with only a father?

“And we’ve killed THOUSANDS of them!” Hiccup had never, _ever_ spoken to his father like that before. The force of Hiccup’s words made Stoick take a step back and he stared at the boy as he continued to defend the beasts.

“They defend themselves, that’s all!” Hiccup said. Stoick began to pace back and forth. He didn’t want to hear this. “They raid us because they have to. If they don’t bring enough food back, they’ll be eaten themselves.” What was that boy talking about? “There’s something on their island, Dad…it’s a dragon like-“

“Their island?” Hiccup’s words caught up to Stoick and he stopped pacing to glare at the boy. “So you’ve been to the nest.”

Hiccup blanched and started to slowly back up. Stoick stalked after him. “Did I say nest?”

“How did you find it?” As mad as he was at Hiccup, Stoick would have the boy lead him to the island even if it killed them. They could finally find the dragons’ nest and destroy it, finally ending the war that had cost their village so much.

“No, I didn’t. Toothless did,” Hiccup said. “Only a dragon can find the island.”

Stoick stopped. _Only a dragon can…_ No wonder the searchers had never found the island. Stoick began to go over ideas in his head, plans for battle. They had a captive dragon, one that was smart enough to lead them and small enough to fit on a ship. The Night Fury.

Hiccup must’ve realized what Stoick was thinking. “Oh no,” he said. “No, Dad, no.” But Stoick was done listening to what Hiccup had to say.

“Dad, it’s not what you think,” Hiccup tried to protest. “You don’t know what you’re up against. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen.” Stoick grunted. The Vikings of Berk could and would take this new dragon down. He pushed Hiccup aside and headed for the Hall doors. “Dad, please! I promise you can’t win this one!” He would. Stoick would win this battle or die trying. He had a way to the island now. He would not let this go to waste.

Behind him, Hiccup wasn’t finished. “Dad, no.” He made a sound of frustration. “For once in your life would you please just listen to me?!”

He grabbed at Stoick’s arm to get his attention. Stoick threw him aside and the boy fell to the floor. On any other day, Stoick would have felt bad for hurting his son. But not today. Not today. Hiccup had gone too far.

“You’ve thrown your lot in with them.” Fraternizing with dragons. “You’re not a Viking.” Demanding that Stoick, the Chief of the Vikings of Berk, listen to him? After what he’d done? Stoick shook his head in disgust. No son of his would do that. No son of Valka would turn to the dragons’ side after what they’d done to _her_. “You’re not my son.”

Stoick turned his back on Hiccup and left him lying in the dark.

“Ready the ships!” he shouted once outside the Hall. In the light of the outside, the full impact of what had transpired hit him. For a second he stumbled as a wave of emotion swelled in his heart. How could Hiccup do that, shoot a dragon down and not kill it? Betray every ideal this village had ever held? It hurt Stoick to think that his own son, the boy who had finally started to become the Viking the son of the Chief should be, had spared and befriended a dragon and broken his word. Stoick had lost so much at the claws of the dragons. So had Hiccup, but it was like he had forgotten what he had lost.

After a moment, Stoick regained his composure. He had no time to waste. There was daylight enough left to search for the dragons’ nest. The moment the Vikings had waited three hundred years for was finally here.

At the docks, the majority of the village loaded nearly every catapult and weapon onto the warships. Stoick took his place on the lead ship as the Night Fury was loaded onto the boat. It was held in a trap of metal loops pounded into a wooden base. A thick collar made of wood was clamped on the dragon, along with a muzzle of leather wrapped around its mouth. They’d tried to remove the gear it was wearing, but the dragon had started bucking and fighting more than it had when it was put in the trap. On Stoick’s orders, it was left on. Time was more important, and the dragon wouldn’t be going anywhere.

“Set sail!” Stoick commanded to the ships that were ready to leave. “We head for Helheim’s Gate.” He glanced around to see how much was left to load. As he did, Stoick saw a small figure looking down from the upper walkway to the docks. Hiccup. Stoick glared at him from the boat, hoping that the boy wouldn’t try anything stupid. Hiccup had already messed up enough as it was. But Hiccup wasn’t doing anything to interfere. He simply stood and watched the Vikings prepare to leave.

Stoick broke his gaze from Hiccup and walked to the front of the boat, next to the Night Fury. As he passed, the dragon stopped its attempts to escape and eyed the Chief. Stoick met its eyes without flinching. There was something different about them this time. Before, when Stoick had looked into the Night Fury’s eyes as it was about to kill him, they had only shown a determination to destroy Stoick. Now, though, they only held open contempt for the man.

Stoick wasn’t going to let the dragon intimidate him. “Lead us home,” he said, “devil,” and spat the last word out.

The journey to Helheim’s Gate was as tense as any search party had ever been. The Vikings knew that this time was different. This time, for sure, they would find the dragons’ nest and destroy it.

At long last, the cloud of fog that signaled the arrival at Helheim’s Gate loomed ahead. Stoick pushed the thought of the last attempt to find the center of the rock formation out of his mind. They had failed then, but he would not let them fail now. “Sound your positions,” he called out to the other ships. “Stay within earshot.” The Vikings shouted their responses as they entered the haze.

Stoick stared straight ahead at the formation, waiting for some sign of what they should do. The boy had said that only a dragon could find the nest. Sooner or later, some dragon, the Night Fury or otherwise, would show them the way.

As he stood there, Gobber came up to him. “Listen, Stoick,” he said hesitantly. “I was overhearing some of the men just now and, well, some of them are wondering what it is we’re up to here. Not me of course,” Gobber added quickly,” I know you’re always the man with the plan, but some, not me, are wondering if there is in fact a plan at all, and what it might be?” There was indeed no plan, and Gobber knew Stoick well enough to have figured that out. But Stoick did not dare tell anyone that his plan consisted little more of “get there alive and start fighting.”

“Find the nest and take it,” he said, speaking in barely more than a growl.

“Ah, of course,” Gobber said, his voice betraying to Stoick the lack of confidence he currently held in his chief. “Send them running. The old Viking fallback. Nice and simple.”

At that moment, the Night Fury reacted to something the Vikings could not hear. Stoick shushed Gobber and turned to face the dragon. It began to make little noises, not unlike the purr of a cat, but more reptilian. Its eyes were narrow slits, and they looked troubled.

Stoick pushed his way to the back of the ship, startling the men in his path. “Step aside,” he told the helmsman, and took control of the tiller. Within seconds, the dragon raised its head high in the air, as if it had heard something call out to it. It looked to the right, and Stoick pushed the tiller so that the boat turned the way the dragon faced. They sailed that direction for a few seconds, before the dragon turned its head again. Stoick shifted the boat to follow the dragon’s lead.

A low buzz of dragon noises echoed around them. The armada wove its way through the rocks, farther than it had ever gone before. Quiet gasps rang out in the fog when the Vikings saw one of their own boats, from a previous expedition, somehow hanging from one of the rocky crags. It was damaged, holes in the keel and deck and missing most of the sail. “Oh,” Gobber said in an attempt to relieve the unease among the Vikings, “I was wondering where that went.” It didn’t help.

The lead boat’s mast knocked into the hanging dragon figurehead as it passed, both creaking ominously as the two wooden ships collided. Through all this, Stoick watched the Night Fury, attuned to its movements. It shifted again, and Stoick turned the boat, narrowly avoiding a rock sticking out of the water. Ahead, he could see a rocky beach, the dragon noises coming from it louder than ever before. They were almost there.

Without warning, the Night Fury started bucking in its cage again, trying frantically to escape and crying out as it did so. The assembled Vikings muttered nervously among themselves, and Stoick called out, “Stay low, and ready your weapons!” The ship lurched to a stop on the shore of the beach. Stoick walked to the front of the boat, past the Night Fury anxiously scraping its foot at the wooden base. The Chief stared up at the rock wall in front of him, watching a single dragon tail disappear into a crevice, and the Night Fury growled softly.

“We’re here,” Stoick said, more to himself than anyone else. Three hundred years they had searched for this place. Three hundred years of war and death and he had finally found it. This changed everything.

Stoick jumped off the edge of the boat onto the island. The instant he did so, the buzz of the dragons’ island stopped, the silence more threatening than any sound the dragons could make. He stood up and grinned. They would win this war.

They spent the next few hours setting up for the coming battle. Stoick outlined a plan in the dirt with his commanding officers: Gobber, Spitelout, and Phlegma. He drew arrows with Phlegma’s sword, pointing them towards the mountain face. Around him, the other Vikings placed catapults and spikes of wood, all aimed towards the same spot on the rocks in front of them.

“When we crack this mountain open,” Stoick said, “all Hel is going to break loose.”

“In my undies,” Gobber said in a half-hearted attempt to lighten the heavy mood that had settled over the warriors. This would be like no battle the Vikings had ever seen. This was the dragons’ home territory, and they had no idea what the inside of their nest looked like. “Good thing I brought extras.”

Stoick took a step towards the mountain where the Vikings would launch their first attack. “No matter how this ends,” he said, “it ends today.” 300 years of fighting. So many people lost. Valka….By the gods, Stoick would make this war end today. He raised his hand in the air, prepared to start the battle.

Stoick closed his fist, and the first catapult was fired.

In rapid succession, the Vikings fired catapult after catapult, heavy rocks thrown against the side of the mountain. Slowly, slowly, the wall in front of them crumbled, dust and shards of rock flying everywhere. Under the heavy barrage, the mountain gave way, opening itself to reveal a long, dark cave. Stoick was the first to climb the pile of rubble to look inside.

As the dust settled and the Vikings quieted behind him, Stoick smiled. He could barely see inside the tunnel, but he could hear the dragons; that low buzz was unmistakable. And that smell – the smell of dragon was stronger than Stoick had ever experienced, pungent and musty almost to the point of overwhelming the man. Stoick was too full of adrenalin and anticipation to notice. They were in the right place.

With a wave of his hammer, Stoick signaled the catapults to shoot a flare into the cave. Over his head the burning mass flew and into the cave it went, illuminating dragons crowded on the walls. There were more dragons in that single tunnel than Stoick had ever seen in his lifetime, it seemed. As the flame passed, the dragons stirred; a few cried out. In a matter of seconds, the light was out, but Stoick had seen enough.

Stoick yelled as he ran into the cave, a roar that only a small number of Vikings could match. He swung his hammer at the dragons, which flew off the walls and out into the open. Behind him, Gobber, Spitelout, and Phlegma all fought the same, hoping to strike down a dragon as it escaped.

It took Stoick a moment to break out of the initial frenzy of battle to notice that no dragon stopped to fight him or the others. They all flew out of the tunnel, rapidly emptying the place. Above the fog they flew, not challenging any of the hundreds of Vikings outside their cave. Uncharacteristic of all they knew about dragons. This was not what Stoick expected.

“Is that it?” Gobber said behind him. Stoick’s friend shrugged, and clambered over the fallen rocks to look out over the crowd of warriors. Stoick followed him, but instead of looking at the Berkians, he looked up at the fleeing dragons. Gobber shouted out, “We’ve done it!” and the rest of the Vikings began to cheer. Stoick didn’t join them in celebration. Something didn’t feel right about this whole situation. Why would the dragons just…fly away? They were normally so aggressive on Berk, but they almost seemed…eager to leave.

As Stoick stood there at the top of the rubble, he heard from the ships the Night Fury, struggling wildly to fight free of its cage. The dragon’s unsettledness set off alarms in Stoick’s head. The Night Fury had not shown this much reluctance during the entire journey to the island. Why would it suddenly start to panic? What WOULD make a Night Fury panic? It wasn’t right.

On an instinct honed by years of fighting, Stoick shouted to his warriors, “This isn’t over!” Hiccup’s warning echoed in his head. _There’s something, on their island, Dad. It’s like nothing you’ve ever seen!_ Something in Stoick’s gut told him that he was about to find out what Hiccup meant. “Form your ranks! Hold together!” A cracking sound came from deep inside the cave, and Stoick turned to face what was coming.

The mountain began to shake, rocks and dust showering the warriors closest to the cave’s entrance. A roar louder than anything Stoick had ever heard in his life sounded, hot, wet air blowing fiercely against the Chief, forcing him to brace himself or else be blown down. The blast was strong enough to rock the boats across the battle field, although Stoick paid no attention.

In the dim light, Stoick saw something giant, something monstrous, move towards him. His eyes widened as he realized what he was seeing. Stoick turned and took giant leaps down the rubble outside, yelling at his warriors, “Get clear!” Everyone raced away as an enormous dragon burst its way out of the rocks, showing the escaping Vikings with boulders that they could barely avoid.

Stoick ran with his fellow warriors, Gobber at his side. Once out of the direct avalanche of rocks, Stoick turned to face the nightmare tearing its way through the rocks like they were make of wet clay. “Beard of Thor,” Gobber swore. “What is that?” Stoick had no answer. It was, he realized, truly as Hiccup had described, _like nothing he’d ever seen!_ Men and women who had spent their entire lives fighting dragons ran away without a second thought. Stoick stood there, still amongst the wave of fleeing Vikings, as he realized the horror that he had gotten his people into.

“Odin help us,” he said, knowing it would take nothing short of a miracle from the skies to save them now.

The dragon in front of him was larger than some islands Stoick had seen. It was covered in dark blue and gray scales, with dusty red knots of bone on its legs and back. It roared, the sound momentarily overtaking all else in the chaos, its wide mouth revealing a row of spiked teeth that were taller than Stoick himself. Rocks the size of houses fell off its back and shattered at its feet.

Stoick regained enough of his composure to shout “Catapults!” hoping that someone was still there to fire the weapons. Several catapults went off, flinging giant rocks at the dragon, though Stoick could see they did no damage more than make the dragon mad. With a tremendous bite, the dragon destroyed the nearest catapult with its massive jaw and crushed another with its foot.

The dragon came nearer, and Stoick joined the surge of Vikings running from the destruction behind them. Someone next to Stoick shouted, “Get to the ships!” That was the wrong thing to say, Stoick realized. This dragon was more than just a monster. It knew to destroy the catapults when they were firing at it, even the ones that were inactive. It saw the Vikings racing towards the ships, and as Stoick shouted “No! No!” in an effort to stop his people from running to their deaths, the dragon did what Stoick knew it would. A cloud of fire larger and hotter than any Stoick had seen before shot out of the dragon’s mouth at the ships, setting them on fire and causing the men and women on board to jump into the water or risk being burned alive.

The fire bloomed behind Stoick, sending waves of heat across his back. He turned to face the dragon, his mind struggling to come up with how to get as many of his people out of this situation alive as possible. “Smart, that one,” Gobber said. Yes, it was. That was part of the problem.

“I was a fool,” Stoick realized, voicing his thoughts. This was a disaster. For the first time in his life, Stoick regretted not listening to Hiccup and his warnings. Countless of Stoick’s warriors – his friends – now lay dead or dying because of Stoick’s mistake. But there was no time to dwell. Stoick had a battle to fight.

He caught sight of Spitelout and told him, “Lead the men to the far side of the island!” in the hopes that some people might escape the dragon’s rage. Spitelout repeated the instructions to the surrounding Vikings and disappeared into the crowd. Stoick turned to Gobber, hustling faithfully along beside him. “Gobber, go with the men,” he said, knowing Gobber would lead in Stoick’s absence.

Not to his surprise, Gobber refused. “I think I’ll stay, just in case you’re thinking of doing something crazy,” he said.

“I can buy them a few minutes if I give that thing someone to hunt,” Stoick replied, realizing the insane plan that had taken shape in his head during the chaos. It was the best chance his warriors had to survive, if Stoick stayed behind to distract the giant dragon. There was absolutely no way that Stoick could fight this dragon and win with nothing more than a hammer when boulders did nothing to harm it, but he would last as long as he could and hope that his friends could make it out alive. It was his duty as Chief. Stoick prepared to turn away and run into battle.

But Gobber had other plans. “Then I can double that time,” he said, grabbing Stoick’s arm, his voice unusually serious. The two men looked each other in the eyes, and Stoick felt a stroke of pride in his chest knowing that his best friend was willing to fight and die alongside him in order to give the others a chance to survive. He smiled grimly. Gobber returned it, both of them realizing this was likely the last time they would see each other alive.

“Here! Here!” Stoick shouted, running to catch the dragon’s attention. Behind him, his characteristic joviality returning, Gobber repeated the challenge. The two warriors ran towards the dragon, their weapons raised.

They raced into the mostly empty battle field, the last few stragglers fleeing the scene. The dragon had picked one of the warriors up off the ground, and he fell from its mouth as Stoick and Gobber neared the beast. The Viking Chief picked up one of the pikes still in the rocky ground and flung it, straight at the dragon’s face. It hit home, grabbing the dragon’s attention. It brought its head down to look at Stoick, malice in its eyes. To his left, Gobber shouted, “Come on! Bite me!” The dragon turned to look at Gobber, some thirty feet away.

Stoick screamed, “No, me!” at the dragon, distracting its attention from Gobber. The ruse didn’t last long, as the dragon decided to rear up and prepared to blast the two men with fire instead. Gas built up in its throat and Stoick braced himself for the wave of heat that would bring about his death.

It didn’t come. Something exploded against the dragon’s skull, breaking its concentration and causing it to shake its head. To Stoick’s utter surprise, four dragons flew out from behind the massive beast. He stood there in shock, unable to make sense of what he was seeing. All the other dragons had flown away. Why would these four come back and fight?

The lead dragon, a Deadly Nadder, righted itself in the air as it flew past the giant dragon, and at the same time Stoick heard a voice cry out, barely loud enough over the sounds of the dragon, “Ruff, Tuff, watch your backs! Move, Fishlegs!”

It was Hiccup, riding on the back of the Nadder. Stoick watched his son fly by, followed by the other teens on their own dragons: Snotlout on the Monstrous Nightmare, Fishlegs on the Gronkle, the twins on the Zippleback, Astrid riding with Hiccup. _What the…?_ Stoick couldn’t complete the thought, he was so stunned by what he was seeing.

The formation flew by to circle back around to the center of the battlefield. Stoick could do little more than follow them in the skies as Gobber limped up next to him, now that the two of them were no longer in immediate danger. “Every bit the boar-headed, stubborn Viking you ever were,” Gobber said, a note of incredulous certainty in his voice.

Stoick was speechless, only nodding his head in assent. Gobber was right. For one of the first times in his life, Stoick realized exactly how much his son was like him. Hiccup, despite all that stood against him, had come to a battle even though his own father hadn’t believed what he said. He didn’t give up. Stoick knew he would not have attempted what Hiccup had done if he were in Hiccup’s position, going into battle with little more than five teenage warriors. And flying on _dragons_ to that battle? It was something so absurd that Stoick never would have thought to try it.

But Hiccup had. Flying dragons into battle was so unthinkable, so stupid and crazy, so… _Hiccup_ , that… _He might have a chance,_ Stoick thought. The skies were an advantage, Stoick knew, and with Vikings – Hiccup – on the backs of dragons, they might be able to win this battle.

Over the rocky field Hiccup and the others flew while the dragon continued its destructive rampage below. They paused for just a moment before splitting off in different directions. Stoick recognized that Hiccup just gave the others orders for the fight. He looked at Gobber, a silent question passing between them. _What could they do to help?_ Gobber shrugged in response. At the moment, there was nothing for Stoick or Gobber to do to help Hiccup. This was something way beyond anything Stoick ever imagined he would have to fight.

Stoick followed Hiccup with his eyes, trying to figure out what he could do. The boy was flying the Nadder away from the battle, circling around instead of fighting with the rest of the teens. Stoick’s eyes narrowed in confusion for a moment as he wondered why exactly Hiccup was leaving the fight behind. Then, from one of the ships came the Night Fury’s screech. Of course. Hiccup was looking for his dragon. In the midst of the battle, Stoick had all but forgotten about the Night Fury that had led him here.

In an instant, Stoick made a decision. “Go help the others!” he shouted to Gobber, and ran towards the row of burning ships. Free the Night Fury. It was all Stoick could think to do. Crazy, but for once in his life Stoick was placing his trust in Hiccup that the boy and his strange ways might be able to get them out of the mess Stoick had gotten them into. Stoick wasn’t sure how the dragon could help them, but he thought Hiccup would know. His son had defied everything the Berkians believed in and tamed this Night Fury and come to battle even though he had spent his entire life as the worst Viking Berk had ever seen. Stoick regretted saying that now.

By the time Stoick reached the shoreline, Hiccup had jumped off the Nadder’s back onto the burning ship with the Night Fury. The Chief looked around, trying to find a way to get closer to the ship, since it had drifted away from the shore during the battle. Then the ground shook behind him and Stoick dove out of the way right before the giant dragon’s foot landed where he had been standing seconds before. Stoick rolled over on the rocky ground and looked up in time to see the dragon crush the boat Hiccup was on. His heart pounded in his chest with worry for his son.

Stoick just saw Hiccup’s small figure surface with a gasp and look around frantically for something. A second passed, and the boy took a deep breath and dove below the waves. Hiccup was going for the Night Fury, Stoick realized, and without hesitation tore off his helmet and jumped into the water after his son.

Through the gloom of the water, Stoick saw Hiccup at the sea’s bottom, desperately yanking on something. Movement right beyond the boy told Stoick that he had found the dragon, still trapped by the Vikings’ bounds. Stoick swam deeper, closer to Hiccup, when the boy stopped moving. He’d run out of air. Stoick kicked faster, hoping to get his son out alive before he drowned in the water. With a final kick he grabbed Hiccup by the back of his shirt and hauled him to the surface. Stoick laid Hiccup down on the rocky shore and paused just long enough to hear Hiccup cough up the water he swallowed before Stoick turned around and diving back into the sea.

He barely heard Hiccup say, “Dad?” before he was under water again. Somewhere in Stoick’s mind, he knew he was crazy for doing this, swimming to save a dragon. Yet here he was. The dragon was important enough to his son that Hiccup risked everything to come after it. That was enough for Stoick right now.

The dragon’s eyes were closed and it was laying down in its trap, resigned to its fate. Stoick stopped before it, hesitating, wondering if freeing this dragon was the right choice. It could easily kill him and Hiccup as soon as he let it go. Before he could change his mind, the currents from his arms roused the dragon, and it opened its eyes and looked at Stoick. Again, the Viking Chief met the dragon’s stare without flinching. Through the murky gloom of the water, Stoick saw the same contempt from the dragon he felt earlier, but this time, he thought he saw something different in its eyes. He wasn’t sure what, exactly, but before he began to doubt his decision, the dragon’s eyes widened and Stoick reached out and grabbed the hinge on the wooden collar, pulling at it until it broke.

Stoick swam back, leaving room for the dragon to come out of its trap. It hesitated, meeting Stoick’s eyes again to gauge if it could trust him. Then, with a single, powerful push, the dragon shot out of the metal cage, grabbing Stoick and hauling him out of the water as it did so. It flew over to the shore and dropped the Viking next to Hiccup before landing on a pile of rocks overlooking the battlefield. Stoick stood up and caught his breath, watching as the dragon looked back at Hiccup and gestured with its head at the massive beast wreaking havoc in the distance.

“You’ve got it, bud,” Hiccup said, and ran to the dragon. In a swift leap, the boy climbed onto the dragon’s back, a practiced move that told Stoick that Hiccup had done this many times before. Hiccup began to fiddle with something at his waist, and Stoick noticed that Hiccup was wearing some kind of harness… _riding gear_? At once, Stoick understood what Hiccup and the dragon were planning to do.

There was no reason that Stoick should let Hiccup go into battle riding on dragon-back, given the Vikings’ history with the creatures. None at all, except for the fact that Hiccup trusted this dragon. And, Stoick realized, so did he. What the chieftain had seen in the dragon’s eyes moments before…there had been fear and apprehension, yes, but something else as well. Hiccup’s words floated through his head. _They’ll be eaten themselves…._ The dragons only fought the Vikings at the massive dragon’s command. As impossible as it may seem, the Night Fury wanted the same thing Stoick did: to fight the massive dragon. To free its own from this tyrant. It would never hurt Hiccup, nor would it ever hurt any of the Vikings, given the choice. Stoick was sure of that.

Everything they knew about the dragons was wrong. And everything Stoick thought he knew and what he said about his son was wrong. He saw that now. Stoick could not let Hiccup race off into battle without letting him know it.

“Hiccup!” Stoick raced over to Hiccup on the Night Fury’s back and grabbed the boy’s arm, so small like the last person Stoick lost. Hiccup looked down at his father, an argument in his eyes, waiting for Stoick to forbid him from going to fight, like every time before this.

Stoick met his son’s eyes and opened his mouth to speak. No words came out. _What to say, what to say?_ There wasn’t much time. Hiccup had to get out there soon. “I’m sorry,” he began, “for….” _For what?_ “For everything.”

Hiccup visibly relaxed at his father’s apology. “Yeah, me too.”

“You don’t have to go out there,” Stoick said, nodding to the battlefield. It was an empty statement, offering a way out that Stoick knew the boy would not take. Hiccup was going out there whether or not his father agreed. Stoick held on to Hiccup’s arm still, not wanting to let his son go any sooner than he had to, but knowing full well that he would.

The boy opened his mouth as if to argue with Stoick’s statement, but stopped. “We’re Vikings,” Hiccup said. He looked at Stoick and the Chief could see the relief and confidence flood Hiccup’s eyes. That small smile that Stoick had not seen in what felt like forever crept onto Hiccup’s face as he finished the old adage among the Berkians. “It’s an occupational hazard.” The massive dragon roared in the background, a reminder of how little time they had.

Stoick felt an upwelling of pride at Hiccup’s remark, knowing now how true it was. He swallowed once, fighting to keep his emotions from taking over, and reached up to hold Hiccup’s hand with both of his. The boy’s hand was overwhelmed by Stoick’s, and Stoick feared that this might be the last time he ever held his son’s hand again. He wanted for a moment to pull Hiccup off the dragon’s back and hold him tight, but it was time to let the boy go.

There was one last thing he had to say though. Not a goodbye. No, Stoick was not going to say goodbye to Hiccup. It was something that should have been said a long, long time ago. If anything could make amends for what he said earlier, it would be this.

“I’m proud,” he said, “to call you my son.” Stoick let go of Hiccup’s hand and stepped back.

Hiccup hesitated a moment, his hand still in the air where Stoick had held it. His smile dropped and Stoick saw the fear in the boy’s eyes as he said, “Thanks, Dad,” his voice not much more than a whisper. Hiccup turned to put his hands on the dragon’s saddle, but his eyes lingered on Stoick’s face for a second longer.

Stoick stood back out of the way of the dragon’s – what had Hiccup called him? – Toothless’s wings. Hiccup and Toothless glanced at each other as Stoick watched. The dragon crouched down, and with a push and a beat of his wings, the boy and his dragon were aloft. The air from the dragon’s wings rushed against Stoick’s face, and he followed them with his eyes as the two of them flew up and into the sky. For a moment, his amazement outshone his fear for Hiccup. This, too, was like nothing Stoick had ever seen before.

Hiccup and the dragon flew near vertical up into the sky, disappearing into the low-hanging clouds. He wondered if they were leaving; but no, Stoick remembered. That was how the Night Fury worked. Come out of nowhere, fast and with little warning. To build up that much speed the dragon must have to start flying from quite some way away.

There was nothing more Stoick could do to help Hiccup right now, as much as he wished he could. _You can only prepare him._ Stoick reclaimed his helmet and took stock of the battle. Astrid was circling the battlefield with the Nadder, and the twins were flying at the massive dragon’s head. On top was a speck of a figure – Snotlout? Fishlegs? Stoick couldn’t tell. As the twins grew nearer, the figure ran and leapt off the horn and into the air, landing in the crook of the Zippleback’s neck. Probably Snotlout, then.

Stoick picked his way over the burning debris on the ground to where the still standing Vikings were amassed, keeping his eyes on the skies for his son. The twins flew away with Snotlout hanging on, Astrid following right behind them. She drew close enough to the beast’s head and it opened its mouth. Stoick feared for a moment that it would blast the girl and her dragon, but instead it began to suck air in, pulling Astrid and the Nadder closer to its mouth as if to swallow them. Stoick looked around frantically, hoping there was someone who could do something. But there was no one in the air right now. The twins had landed with Snotlout, and – thank the gods – Fishlegs was in the crowd of Vikings. And Hiccup was nowhere to be fou-

From the skies came the shriek that signified death and destruction was imminent. Someone in the cluster of Vikings shouted “Night Fury!” followed by Gobber’s cry of “Get down!” Around Stoick, the other Vikings ducked and covered themselves with their shields, open targets, but not the Chief. There was nothing for him to fear from Toothless. Instead, he looked but could not find Hiccup and the dragon in the cloudy sky.

Then, there! Over the rocky outcroppings the dragon came, flying at a speed Stoick could hardly believe. Hiccup was on that dragon’s back? Stoick felt a new appreciation for his son’s genius, remembering how he had strapped himself to the dragon’s saddle. With the luck of the gods on his side, the boy would stay on and not fall.

The Night Fury soared closer and closer to the larger dragon. Right before Toothless crashed into the dragon, he fired at its mouth, causing the beast to turn away. The blast knocked Astrid off the Nadder’s back, and the Vikings around Stoick gasped, those that had tentatively uncovered themselves, as she plummeted to the ground, the Nadder gone from sight. Stoick caught his breath, watching Vikings close to the girl prepare to run and catch her, even though they all knew a fall from that height would be fatal.

Stoick followed Hiccup and the Night Fury as they circled back around. “Catch her, please,” he prayed. “Odin, let them catch her.” The dragon flew closer and closer. Closer and closer…. _please catch her._

The crowd again gasped, this time with surprise and no small amount of relief. It was hard to see, but one second Astrid was there and so was the Night Fury, and another second they were both gone. All the Vikings followed the dragon’s path as he circled around again, this time right over the crowd of warriors. Astrid was dangling upside down from the Night Fury’s foot, but with one swift move he flipped her around and dropped her into a running stop on the ground before flying off again towards the beast in the near distance. It was recovering from the Night Fury’s blast.

Stoick, close to Astrid, ran over to where the girl was catching her breath. “I’m okay,” she said before Stoick could ask. “That’s Hiccup up there, on the Night Fury. The dragon’s - “

“I know,” Stoick said, watching the duo disappear once again into the clouds. “He’s on our side.”

Astrid stared at Stoick for a second, like she was thinking about what to say, but instead just nodded her head in response. He clapped her somewhat gently on the shoulder, still watching for Hiccup’s return. “Let’s go,” he said, and turned back to the crowd. The Vikings stood there, in awe of the battle between the dragons unfolding in front of them. Wide-eyed looks followed Astrid and Stoick as they walked by, and Stoick could sense the confusion as they realized that the Night Fury had saved the girl.

With little warning more than a shriek, again the small black dragon and his rider came out of the clouds. Toothless struck mercilessly against the leviathan’s side, knocking it to the ground. Stoick shielded his eyes as dust and ash blew over the watching Vikings. Stoick’s eyes widened as a wing – craggy and ripped at the edges – rose above the battle field, dropping boulders and showering more dust everywhere. The dragon looked around and spotted Toothless and Hiccup; Stoick could tell when it narrowed its eyes and leapt into the air with a downdraft that nearly blew him off his feet. If possible, the dragon looked even bigger now that it was aloft.

Gobber came up to Stoick and swore. “How are we going to fight this thing?” he asked, incredulous at the beast’s mass.

“Hiccup,” Stoick said. “Hiccup is going to fight it.”

“What the...you mean to tell me that Hiccup’s up there with that Night Fury?” Stoick only nodded, keeping his eyes on the beast in the air. He couldn’t see Hiccup and his dragon, but he knew the massive one must be chasing them. “Well, that explains a lot.” He turned to watch the battle alongside Stoick. Behind them, the other Vikings echoed Hiccup’s name. _Hiccup? Fighting? On a dragon’s back?_

The giant dragon crashed through a stack of rocks near the beach, sending more boulders flying everywhere. To Stoick’s relief, leading on the beast was Toothless. The Night Fury flew past, and the watching Vikings began to cheer the dragon and his rider on. The other teens – all five of them, thank the gods – cheered louder than almost anyone.

Stoick stayed silent, instead just watching his son fly past. It was…amazing, what the two of them were doing. The gigantic dragon made Stoick want to run away and only years of fighting stopped him from doing so. Yet Hiccup was up there, hundreds of feet above the ground, on the back of a small dragon, being chased by a beast straight out of the depths of Hel. And from what Stoick gathered, Hiccup was helping the Night Fury fly, given the leather tail. It was so brave. Despite everything that he had said, Stoick knew that his son was indeed a true Viking. He could only stare in amazement, barely looking away when another stack of rocks was crushed.

The battle changed. The leviathan suddenly turned and flew up into the air, dampening the sounds of the fight. _The clouds_. Hiccup must be trying to hide in the skies. But what then?

Through a break in the clouds, Stoick saw the dragon, first its body and then its giant knob of a tail. Stoick caught his breath, waiting for something to happen. He heard the dragon roar again and again. Then the sky lit up orange, the massive dragon blowing out a stream of fire, and Stoick’s heart pounded with worry that Hiccup was caught in the flames. For a moment came only the monster’s roar and the sound of the dragon’s wings beating to keep it aloft. Anything could be happening right now. Hiccup could be dead, or injured, or, or

Lightning!

No, the Night Fury! The unholy offspring of lighting and death itself. Of course. Stoick let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. Hiccup was still okay, probably. Shot after shot lit up the sky, eliciting more gasps from the Vikings as the giant dragon’s silhouette shone through the clouds. Though the lightning meant Hiccup was still alive, Stoick clenched his fist with fear.

The sky lit up again, but this time, instead of with the purple of pseudo-lightning, with the ugly orange of the dragon’s fire, like the gates of Hel opened up again and were taking over the skies this time. Accompanying it were the roars of the beast.

Toothless’s lightning stopped.

It was impossible for Stoick to make out if any of the dragon roars were from the Night Fury or the leviathan. No one said anything; they all kept their eyes on the sky, too tense to speak. The lack of purple light was terrifying to Stoick. If the Night Fury was down, so was Hiccup.

Shot limit. Maybe the dragon reached it. No, the Night Fury was too smart for that, Stoick was sure. Hopefully the dragon was holding back his shots, conserving them for…whatever it was that they were going to do. Hopefully that. Otherwise, it meant- No. Stoick wasn’t going there. Hiccup would make it. Hiccup would make it.

Stoick watched clouds, waiting for the first sign of his son and the Night Fury. There was nothing, only the continued angry roars of the dragon. Was he imagining it, or were they getting louder? The clouds flashed again, and without warning, the massive dragon came flying towards the ground, its mouth burning with fire it could not seem to put out. Its wings were ripping from the flames and it did not seem to be slowing down. _It’s going to crash,_ Stoick thought, and his heart leapt as he just barely caught sight of the Night Fury before it vanished in the chaos.

The giant dragon finished its doomed journey from the skies and crashed into the ground. Waves of fire and heat rolled over the battlefield towards the watching Vikings, who stumbled and yelled when the wave reached them. Stoick ducked his head and tried to brace against the blast. Even with his eyes closed, he could see the light from the flames that exploded up into the sky.

The heat blast faded from the air and Stoick raised his head, blinking his eyes to clear the ash that coated everything. Behind him, he could hear the other Vikings coughing and recovering from the blast, but Stoick’s attention was solely on the world in front of his eyes. The inferno blazed on, churning up clouds of smoke. Beyond that, nothing else. Stoick waited, his heart racing, but he could not see a single dragon. No Night Fury. Stoick’s breath caught in his throat.

_Where is he? Where’s Hiccup?_

“Gobber!” he yelled, turning towards his friend. “Do you see him anywhere?” Without waiting for a response, Stoick turned his eyes to the sky. “Does _anyone_ see Hiccup?”

The only sound was the crackle of the blaze ahead. No Night Fury. No Hiccup. _No Hiccup._ Stoick took off running towards the dying fire. _Not Hiccup. Please not Hiccup._ Stoick couldn’t lose his son too.

“Hiccup!” Stoick shouted. “Hiccup!”

He stumbled through the falling ash, turning this way and that, looking for any sign of Hiccup. The air was hot on his face and the ash burned his eyes, but Stoick didn’t care. “Hiccup!” he shouted again. “Son!”

The ash began to clear, and Stoick did a double take as he realized that what he thought was a pile of rocks was none other than the form of a fallen Night Fury. Toothless lay unnaturally slumped on the ground, folded over on himself as if he had landed there and not gotten up. Stoick could not tell if he was alive or dead. “Hiccup,” Stoick breathed, his heart pounding both with hope and fear. He ran towards the still dragon.

Stoick ran close enough to Toothless to see Hiccup’s saddle on the dragon’s back. It was empty and torn, the edges charred from the fire. Stoick’s panting breaths alerted the Night Fury, who heaved his own pained breath and rolled over, wings limp against his body. The Viking tore his gaze from the ruined saddle and looked around the dragon, dreading what he might find. But there was only the bent metal and burnt leather of what was left of the Night Fury’s riding gear. His artificial tail had burned away, along with the ropes holding everything together.

Nothing. There was nothing. No sign of Hiccup. Just like his mother. No body for Stoick to say goodbye too. Only this dragon was left as a damaged reminder of the son Stoick had just begun to understand.

Stoick fell to his knees. “Oh, son…I did this.”

He did not look at the downed dragon, nor did he respond to the sounds of the Vikings amassing behind him. The only thing Stoick gave attention to was Toothless’s labored breathing. He sat there, fighting back tears, thinking of how if he had only _listened_ to Hiccup, the boy would still be alive. In that moment, Stoick did not know what else to do. He just knelt there, in front of the dragon, mourning the loss of his only son. His stillness was interrupted by Toothless, who finally stirred with a weary moan. The dragon looked at Stoick, who lifted his head only enough to meet the Night Fury’s gaze.

Tears welled in Stoick’s eyes as he looked at Toothless. He could see not just the dragon’s physical pain from whatever fall he had experienced, but saw his own pain reflected in them as well. As little as Stoick knew about Toothless, he did know one thing: this dragon cared for Hiccup as much as Stoick did, and losing the boy hit him just as hard.

Toothless made a small rumbling noise, a sound unlike any other Stoick had heard come from a dragon. It held a feeling of kinship and for the first time in his life, Stoick empathized with a dragon. “Oh son…” He once again felt an upwelling of emotion over Hiccup’s death, and Stoick found himself saying, less to just the boy and more to Toothless and everything the Vikings and the dragons had lost from the war, “I’m so sorry.”

The dragon’s eyes widened, and to Stoick it looked like his pupils did too, just slightly. Toothless held his gaze for a breath longer, then slowly blinked and looked down at his body. As he did, he unfolded his wings.

Cradled within the Night Fury’s legs was Hiccup, still in his flying suit.

“Hiccup!” Stoick shouted, and ran to his son. He pulled Hiccup from Toothless’s grasp, who released the boy to his father. Hiccup was limp in Stoick’s arms and Stoick could not tell if he was breathing or not. He brushed Hiccup’s hair off the boy’s face. Hiccup’s eyes were closed, his mouth slightly parted. Desperate to know if he was okay, Stoick threw off his helmet and put his ear to the boy’s chest, and listened.

It was faint, but there. Stoick let out a near-sob of relief at Hiccup’s heartbeat. “He’s alive!” he cried, hugging the boy to his chest. He looked at Toothless, never before so thankful for a dragon. “You brought him back alive!”

Behind him, the assembled Vikings broke out in cheers upon hearing Stoick’s declaration of Hiccup’s life. The Viking looked down at Hiccup, taking in his son’s round face and narrow shoulders, grateful that Hiccup was alive. Stoick heard Toothless react with a small noise of surprise, and he realized that the dragon, until this moment, had not known if Hiccup was alive either, but had sheltered him nonetheless.

Stoick cradled Hiccup’s head in one hand and reached out with his other and gently laid it on the dragon’s head. Toothless gave another sound of relief, and finally relaxed his head on the ground.

“Thank you,” Stoick said, his voice thick with emotion, “for saving my son.”

Gobber came up next to Stoick. “Well,” he said, “most of him.”

_What_? Stoick looked at Gobber, wondering what his friend meant. Gobber gestured at the boy’s legs and Stoick followed. His eyes widened. “Medic!” he shouted. “We need a medic!”

One of the Vikings pushed their way forward and Stoick set Hiccup down and stood aside to let the medic work. For where Hiccup’s left foot had once been, there was now little more than a charred stump of mangled flesh and bone. Somehow, in the dragon’s rescue in the flames, Hiccup had lost his leg. Stoick knew from experience that the boy’s leg would need to be amputated.

They needed to get Hiccup back to Berk, and fast. Stoick turned to his Vikings, setting aside the worry he felt for his son. “Find the least damaged ship,” he ordered. “Get it ready to sail. We need to get Hiccup to Berk.” Several Vikings nodded and ran off towards the shoreline. “Everyone else, set up camp. We won’t be going home tonight.”

With that in the works, Stoick looked to the teens. “Astrid, I want you to fly back to Berk and tell Gothi to prepare for surgery. Hiccup’s lost his leg. We’ll do what we can here, but she’ll need to be ready. And tell everyone….” Stoick paused, considering the weight of what he was about to say. “Tell them that the war is over.”

The girl nodded and disappeared into the crowd. To the remaining teens, Stoick said, “You four, go with Astrid and tell the other villagers to get every seaworthy boat we have ready to sail here. You’ll need every body you can get on Berk. But don’t let them leave until I arrive. They’ll need help finding this place.” He turned away, back towards the Night Fury laying on the ground, the medics working on Hiccup a little ways away. One last thing to take care of.

Stoick approached the dragon, who eyed him as he came close. But there was no fear or apprehension in those eyes this time. Stoick knelt in front of Toothless, and for the first time took in the details of his features. There was texture to his scales, patterns of lighter grey spots across his skin. On his head was a line of little nubs that stopped when they reached the armored plates at the back of his head. Were those the dragon’s ears? Stoick could not tell.

On the dragon’s back were the torn shreds of the saddle. Despite the damage, though, Stoick could see the craftsmanship that Hiccup had put into it. The leather was stretched over a metal frame, carefully woven and sewn together. Pieces of leather and metal had fallen off the dragon where, Stoick presumed, ropes had burnt away. On the ground were the remains of the foot pedals, once so expertly put together to help the dragon fly. So this is what Hiccup had been working on. Incredible.

Stoick turned and looked in the dragon’s eyes. They were green, almost the same shade as Hiccup’s eyes. It was like Stoick were looking at Hiccup himself in some way.

“Dragon,” he said. Toothless stirred slightly, just enough to let Stoick know he was listening. “Can you stand? I’d like you to come back to Berk. With Hiccup.”

Toothless looked back at him with tired eyes. Stoick had no idea if the dragon actually understood him or not, but he was not quite surprised when Toothless shook himself and slowly, painfully, stood up. The bits of metal and leather fell to the ground with a dull clank. Toothless froze, and, without hesitating, Stoick reached over and took the saddle off the dragon’s back before it too could fall. He tucked it under his arm as Toothless flexed his wings and the rest of the gear fell from his tail.

In the distance, there were shouts that the boat was ready. “Come, dragon,” Stoick said. “It’s time to go.”

Together, Stoick and Toothless began walking to where Hiccup lay being treated by the medics. The watching Vikings parted, clearly unsure if they should come near the Night Fury and their Chief. Gobber though, swallowed his qualms and stepped up next to Stoick and looked down at the boy.

“We need to get him to Gothi. The medics have him steady for now, but…” Gobber trailed off, implying but not saying the words Stoick dreaded hearing. _He’s likely not going to make it._ Hiccup’s face was even paler than before, more gray than it should be, his mouth slightly open. The Vikings working on his leg covered the scene, for which Stoick was glad. Though Stoick had seen worse injuries before, his stomach turned at the thought of seeing his own son’s leg so mangled another time.

“Get him on the ship and be ready to leave.” His voice was quiet, for if he spoke louder about Hiccup, Stoick feared he might break. He turned to the other Vikings. “I’ll be back tomorrow with more ships. We can all go home then. And when we do,” he paused, then smiled. “We will celebrate! The war is over!”

The crowd for a second was still until the gravity of Stoick’s words washed over them. To the sound of cheers, Stoick began his walk side by side with Toothless towards the awaiting boat.

Gobber joined the duo at the shoreline where a burned but sailable ship had been scavenged together. Shortly afterwards, a medic came with Hiccup in her arms, and he was loaded onto the boat, ready to be taken home. As the sailors pushed off into the mess of rocks, the stress of the day finally caught up to Stoick. He sagged against the railing, fatigue threatening to overcome him.

“You rest,” Gobber told him. He placed a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’ll watch over Hiccup and wake you if anything happens.”

Stoick almost argued with Gobber, but the fight had gone out of him. Stoick nodded, and sat down next to Toothless, who was curled up with his tail wrapped in front of his face. For the first time in what felt like years, Stoick closed his eyes and slept.

***

Hiccup’s bed was moved next to the hearth in Stoick’s house. They had nearly lost him twice to infection, but now Gothi felt he was recovered enough that he could go home. She could not save his leg, and so the boy would walk with a prosthetic for the rest of his life, but at least he was alive and getting better. The burns on Hiccup’s face were faded, but Stoick knew they would not heal completely for some time. He was still pale, but his skin no longer held the gray pallor of near death.

Stoick sat on a chair at the head of Hiccup’s bed, watching the boy’s chest rise and fall. He still marveled that, somehow, Hiccup had survived all that was thrown against him by both nature and his own father. When Hiccup finally woke, Stoick knew he had a ways to go while getting to know his son. Toothless lay by the hearth. Stoick had found that the dragon enjoyed sleeping on the stones heated by the fire. It was one of many things Stoick was learning about the Night Fury.

They kept vigil like this every day during the time Stoick could get away from running the village to watch his son sleep. When he could not, Gobber and sometimes Astrid would take his place. No matter who was watching, though, Toothless was always there, not far from Hiccup’s side. He all but refused to part with the boy. Stoick let him stay. Rightly so, he thought. Much of Hiccup’s time spent with the dragon still remained a mystery, but Astrid had filled people in on what she knew, and it was clear to everyone that Toothless cared deeply for Hiccup. The dragon was the only reason Hiccup was still alive. And besides – Toothless had as large a part as Hiccup in ending the war. It was his right to stay with Hiccup.

With a sigh, Stoick stood up and stretched. Time to check on things outside for a moment. Toothless looked up at the Viking and cocked his head slightly. “Watch Hiccup for me, will you, Toothless?” Stoick asked, though he knew the dragon was not going anywhere. He still was not sure if Toothless understood what he was saying, but it made Stoick feel more at ease to talk to him.

The dragon laid his head back down on the hearth, content to rest until Stoick returned. To the front door Stoick walked, and he opened it, knowing what he would find right outside. Dragons. Everywhere. But not fighting. Those days were passed. For the first time in three hundred years, Berk was at peace.

Changes were being made to better accommodate the dragons. The torches from before were now lowered and full of fish for the dragons to eat. Perches were being built on the roofs of houses, and there were plans for stables in the works. Most of the designs had come from Hiccup himself. Stoick had set Gobber in charge of rebuilding the flying gear for Toothless, and Gobber had raided Hiccup’s workshop for anything that could help him. He had found a notebook full of drawings, rough sketches of ideas Hiccup had. Clearly, he never thought they could come to fruition, for the buildings and structures were hardly as detailed as diagrams of the riding gear, but then again, Hiccup always had been a boy of unusual ideas and dreams.

Stoick shook his head in amazement as he looked out over his village. Dragons and Vikings, living together. Who would have thought it? All this was because of Hiccup. The legends would tell of his story for centuries. If only Valka were here to share in Stoick’s pride for their son.

On the steps below, Gobber was hobbling up, carrying a long bundle of red leather. Ah, good! Stoick walked down the steps to meet him. Gobber was finished with remaking Toothless’s riding gear from Hiccup’s plans, with a few changes thrown in. The insignia on the tail was Stoick’s idea. Let everyone know what Hiccup and Toothless had done.

Just in time too. It had been five weeks since the war ended. Hiccup should wake up any day now.


End file.
